


Nothing Can Break Me

by noodlecatposts



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOSF SPOILERS, Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames, During and Post-ACOSF, acosf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29932830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: Gwyneth Berdara's story during and after ACOSF.
Relationships: Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara, Emerie & Gwyneth Berdara, Nesta & Emerie & Gwyn, Nesta Archeron & Gwyneth Berdara
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t write a lot of canon these days, but I haven’t been able to shake ACOSF off since I finished it. I’d hoped writing this might free up some space in my brain, but here I am plotting a million tiny more updates to this as an excuse to explore Gwyn’s story. This is what I have for now.

Emerie and Nesta were already there when Gwyn cleared the last steps to the training ring. The morning sun was bright, and the early morning air was sharp and clean. Gwyn smiled at the feeling of the cool morning air on her skin and the sunshine burning the backs of her eyelids. She missed going outside, but Gwyn hadn’t realized just how much until she did.

“This is for you!” Emerie said by way of greeting, handing a book toward Nesta.

The pleased smile on Nesta’s face was shocking. Gwyn didn’t think that the blonde smiled like that often, which was a shame. It suited her.

“And this—” Gwyn’s attention shifted to where Emerie spoke, a book outstretched between them. “—is for you.”

Gwyn blinked in surprise. She wasn’t expecting the gift, though she supposed she _had_ requested it. With careful, nervous fingers, she accepted the book from the cleverly smiling Illyrian; Gwyn swallowed, trying to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.

“Th-thank you.” Gwyn gazed at the cover curiously, but she blushed madly as she remembered the sort of story that she held in her hands. A _romance_. A bit more than that if Emerie’s snickering was any indication. 

The other females had assured her it was tame, but… Gwyn considered Emerie’s spunky sort of recklessness, Nesta’s evident experience. What qualified as tame for them?

Well, Gwyn figured she was about to find out.

A voice cut into her thoughts, “What’re you ladies giggling about _now_?”

At the sound of Cassian’s booming voice, the trio snaps to attention. 

“N-nothing,” Gwyn yelps, jumping out of her skin. Her surprise caused her to release her grip on the book; Gwyn felt it as the faeries present watched the book dance from one hand to the other as she attempted to recapture it.

Cassian raised a brow, expressing disbelief. 

“Nothing,” Gwyn repeated, sounding even less confident and one hundred times more guilty.

Emerie’s smile, once recovered, is blatant and unashamed. “The weather is lovely today, isn’t it, General?”

“It goes to his head when you call him that,” Nesta remarked, turning her steely gaze on the male in question. It made Gwyn inexplicably jealous to see her friend look down upon a male two heads taller than her.

The Illyrian tilted his head to the side, appraising Nesta. His lips parted, and Gwyn could sense the clever innuendo before it was even given life.

Nesta reacted first. “We were discussing dinner.” One word. The meaning completely lost on Gwyn, but not, it would seem, on Cassian. 

Gwyn watched alongside Emerie as the pair in front of them held each other’s gazes. Lightning seemed to crackle in the air between them, and Emerie turned her curious gaze on Gwyn, eyebrows lifted as if to ask, _Do you know what that’s about?_

The priestess lifted one shoulder. The only thing Gwyn knew was that whatever _was_ happening between Nesta and Cassian was _exactly_ the kind of thing that typically blew over Gwyn’s head. It was the kind of thing that, when Gwyn did catch it, made her feel ten kinds of nervous and triggered her flight response.

But whatever was happening between these two… It made her curious.

Cassian cleared his throat. “And how was your dinner, Nes?”

“Uneventful.” The female looked away, but the cool indifference of the gesture took away any sense of victory Cassian may have had. Nesta rolled back her shoulders. “Shall we get started?”

Gwyn blinked. She’d definitely missed something. 

“Okay then,” Emerie drawled, watching the pair walk away. “Is it always like this?”

“Um,” Gwyn thought it over. “Yes, actually.”

“You two coming or what?” Cassian barked. Gwyn tensed at the brusque tone. Emerie, too, flinched. Just a little. 

Guilt immediately flooded Cassian’s expression, deepening at the harsh glare Nesta sent his way. She sighed before turning to her friends. “He’s an idiot, too.”

Cassian nodded lamely in agreement. Gwyn had a feeling such an occasion was rare—that the two agreed on something without argument.

After sharing a look with Emerie, Gwyn joined Cassian and Nesta in the training ring center. They got to work quickly, and the minutes began to tick by. Gwyn quickly became so focused on the proper breathing and not falling on her ass that she forgot all about the book Emerie had given her.

At least until it was time to leave. 

“Let me know what you think,” Emerie said with a wink that caused all of Gwyn’s blood to rush to her face. “There’s more where that came from.”

“I-I,” she stammered, ducking her head. She clutched the book like it was a lifeline. “Okay.”

Nesta scoffed, but the sound wasn’t hard. Rather, it sounded like… amusement. To Gwyn’s relief, she didn’t add to the teasing.

“Drink your water!” Cassian ordered from the other side of the training area. Despite his gruff tone, Gwyn didn’t miss the way his eyes shined with entertainment. And a little something else, too. 

Pride. 

-

Emerie’s book haunted Gwyn throughout the rest of the afternoon. With every step that she took that day—fetching books and notes and tea for her moody superior—it moved within her robs, knocking against her hip in reminder. Gwyn spent an unnecessary amount of time petrified that Merrill might somehow see it, that she might discover Gwyn’s chosen reading material and mock her ruthlessly for it.

The Mother knew how Merrill would uncover such a secret without Gwyn revealing the book willingly, but Merrill just—the female just _knew_ things. 

“That will be all for the day,” Merrill dismissed her, shocking Gwyn out of her thoughts. 

She blinked, caught off guard but the early liberation. There were several hours left in the day for the priestesses to work, and it was unlike Merrill to release her so soon. “What?”

“It’s impossible to get any work done with you hovering,” the older female snapped, her white hair floating about ethereally. “Take your pacing elsewhere, Gwyneth.” 

Gwyn suppressed the need to frown at the use of her given name. “Yes, Merrill.” She dropped into a shallow bow—wholly ignored by the older priestess—and then she left.

In the hall, Gwyn hesitated, unsure of where to go. Of what to do. She supposed she could head down the stairs to find Nesta; the fae was usually lurking about the fifth floor of the library this time of day, sorting books with the same intimidating focus she gave her training. Gwyn’s curiosity burned as she recalled the stilted conversation between Nesta and Cassian this morning; she knew her friend had some gossip for her.

Still, Gwyn hovered just as Merrill had accused her of doing moments ago. Though Gwyn was not particularly… educated in such things, she knew enough to recognize the _something_ hovering in the air between her new friend and the Illyrian General. Something tangible and electric. Delicate, too. The kind of thing that seemed impolite to call out, not that ever stopped Emerie.

Gwyn sighed. Nesta never revealed much on the matter, and Gwyn knew it was wrong of her to pry on such matters. It was for the best that Gwyn it be. She was more than happy to remain a buffer—at least for now.

Puzzled, Gwyn abandoned her plans to see Nesta and, instead, navigated the flight of stairs that lead toward the dormitories. Without an assignment from Merrill or Nesta’s company, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, how to spend the rest of her day. Gwyn didn’t find herself with a lot of free time.

She supposed she could go down to the temple to sing, or Gwyn could brave the steps upward to the House. The training area would be mercifully empty at this time of the day; there would be no one there to watch her stumble through the newest moves Cassian taught them. There also wouldn’t be anyone there to correct her bad habits.

Still, Gwyn rounded a corner, deciding to do just that; however, the book in her robes shifted against her hip, reminding Gwyn of its existence. She paused in her ascent and reconsidered her options. Gwyn could sit with Nesta, go train, or retreat to the temple beneath the mountain and find some solace in music.

Or Gwyn could read the book. The very same book that was now burning a hole through her pocket. How Gwyn had managed to forget about it, she had no idea.

She spun on her heels and headed back for the dormitories. Gwyn told herself it was because Emerie would ask her about the book in the morning. Nesta, too. But the truth was, curiosity burned through Gwyn. She wanted to know what all of the fuss was about.

-

Gwyn found her room blessedly empty when she arrived. It wasn’t uncommon to find one or two of Gwyn’s roommates lurking in their suite throughout the day. The priestesses were here to heal, to relax and recover. And, unlike Gwyn, not everyone did so by keeping infinitely busy with a demanding superior.

She wasted little time, taking off her outer robes and perching against her headboard with the book in hand. Gwyn’s earlier shyness had given way to that burning curiosity, and she didn’t think twice as she cracked open the book and flipped to the first page.

Gwyn soon slipped away into a world of courtly intrigue and daring romance. It was easy for her to forget about the world outside the four walls of her modest bedroom to hone in on the Continent’s otherworldly feel. Was this what it was really like that out there? Did people really talk and walk and _act_ like that?

Maybe she should ask Morrigan. That is, if Gwyn could find the courage to speak to the sunny blonde the next time she passed through the library, much less ask such a thing.

“Are you coming to dinner, Gwyn?”

For the second time that day, Gwyn startled, nearly tossing the book in the air once more. She looked up and into the warm, brown eyes of Roslin. The other priestess smiled apologetically at Gwyn, a smile teasing at her lips. 

Roslin was kind—if a bit of a chatterbox. Not that Gwyn minded; she liked listening to the other female talk. Sometimes, the library was too quiet for Gwyn’s liking. 

“Dinner? Would you like to walk with Deirdre and me?” Roslin nodded toward the entryway, toward where Dierdre stood waiting.

Gwyn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Had it gotten so late already? The book was only just getting to the good part; she could _feel_ it. She didn’t want to put the book down, but she was hungry.

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

-

It’s an effort for Gwyn to not flee the dining hall at the first chance presented; instead, she waits patiently, chatting with her dinner companions as they ask questions of her training sessions with Cassian. The priestesses are a quiet sort of curious, almost afraid to be caught even wondering about the training lessons. They ask if Gwyn enjoyed it or if Gwyn was any good—at what exactly no one specifies—but Gwyn considers the questions to as progress.

Eventually, Gwyn makes an excuse, claiming that the morning’s lesson was more exhausting than usual. Never had the female told a bolder lie. If anything, Gwyn had never had more energy in her life. She felt as if the more she trained and learned, the better she felt. Gwyn could feel her body, always lithe and lean before, becoming firmer. Stronger.

How Gwyn wished she might persuade her fellow priestesses to join. She honestly thought they might also enjoy the training or, at the very least, enjoy going outside. It would also make Nesta happy; Gwyn was well aware of how hard her friend had worked just to get one of them to join.

“Okay, Essa!” Gwyn reclaims the boom from where she’d hidden it under her pillow. She wasn’t brave enough to explain it to her roommates. “Let’s see if you can figure this out.”

It was far too easy for Gwyn to get lost once more within the story’s world. She quickly remembers where she left off—a tense, long-awaited moment emanating from misunderstanding. At least, Gwyn was confident it was a misunderstanding. The main character, Essa, did not seem so sure, a fact that Gwyn was finding increasingly irritating.

They fight. They talk. They make nice. And finally, they kiss.

“ _YES!_ ” 

Her outburst was surprising. Gwyn didn’t expect to find herself so invested, but she was. And she needed to know what happened next. _Immediately._

Gwyn reads late into the night—until her eyes burn and Roslin begs her quietly to dim the fae lights. The priestess flashes her roommate a guilty smile and complies; she’ll have to wait until later to finish the last few chapters. The romance was… perfect. Emerie picked well for Gwyn, choosing a title that was well within her comfort level.

She couldn’t wait to talk to Nesta and Emerie about it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet. Maybe 1200wds. I wanted to get this out into the universe before NN overshadows it this weekend, lol.

Gwyn awoke early the following day to finish the remaining chapters of her borrowed book, eager to find out what would happen next. She had a few hours before she needed to join Nesta and Emerie at the top of the House of Wind for training, and Gwyn was determined to use that to uncover how the book ended. Happy or a cliffhanger.

Gods, if it was a cliffhanger, Gwyn would be furious with Emerie. There was nothing worse.

That wasn’t true, Gwyn decided. The book could end unhappily, and then she’d really have to give Emerie a piece of her mind. She’d never be able to focus; Gwyn had learned quickly that Cassian was a ruthless teacher. He’d take little mercy on her daydreaming, even less when he discovered it was because Gwyn’s brain was too busy fussing over a silly romance novel.

A paper floated in the nook where Gwyn sat, landing atop the table in near silence. Gwyn startled, glancing up and into the shadowed face of Clotho.

_You’re up early._ The parchment read. _Lord_ _Cassian isn’t being too hard on you, is he?_

“No!” Gwyn flushed. Her voice echoed in the quiet, ample space. The rest of the priestesses wouldn’t be up for another hour or so. “No,” she repeated more softly. Her ears burned. “I, uh, wanted to finish my book.”

She regretted the moment the words left her mouth. Clotho tilted her head to the side, her invoking stone swinging with the motion. Gwyn resisted the urge to place her hands over the cover, to conceal the book’s title. 

A soft inhale. The quill danced across the parchment. _That one is quite good._

Gwyn gasped. “You’ve read them?”

_A few._ Clotho’s quill paused. Then, _Some are… a bit much for me._

“I was afraid of that, too,” Gwyn admitted. “But I can’t seem to put this one down.”

She swore Clotho chuckled, a quiet rasping sound. _I know the feeling. Find me when you finish, and we can share our thoughts._

Gwyn didn’t know what to say. “I—okay.”

_Have a good day, Gwyneth._ Clotho waved her hand, and the parchment and quill retreated from the desk. Gwyn nodded, “You, too, Priestess.”

A huff of a breath. Gwyn knew what Clotho meant without her having to write the words. _Please, call me Clotho. We’ve been over this._ It was something Gwyn found endlessly ironic, considering the priestess’s stubborn habit of addressing their benefactors by title and rank.

Clotho’s featherlight steps faded away, and Gwyn immersed herself in the novel once more. 

Though she’d been anticipating the story to become… heated, Gwyn wasn’t ready for it when the steamy moments began to unfold. Her mouth dropped open at the words printed across the page, and her ears pinked.

Drake was… descriptive. 

Gwyn found herself thankful for the dim lighting of the library, as well as the lack of priestesses awake at this hour. There was no doubt that her face was as red as her hair.

Emerie’s words echoed in Gwyn’s thoughts: _one of her tamer novels_. 

Her face burned. Clotho read _this_? Gwyn had nothing to compare the book in her hands to, but the thought made her curious. What would be considered _not_ tame? If Gwyn blushed her way through the depictions in Essa’s story, she might die if she read something Nesta and Emerie considered more adventurous.

But she… thought she might want to.

—

Gwyn managed to finish the book—and its vague ending—just in time to join the rest of the priestesses for breakfast. 

Roslin, of course, was the first to notice her rosy cheeks. “You were up early, Gwyn.”

“I had some work to do for Merrill.” A complete and utter lie. Her roommate seemed to buy into it nevertheless. “I wanted to get what I could done before training.”

The table fell silent at the mention of her lessons, and Gwyn worked hard to resist the urge to look at her companions. She wished she could read their minds and figure out what they were thinking, but the faces she could see were carefully neutral. Others hid behind their hoods and invoking stones.

No one asked any questions this morning, but that was okay.

“Um,” Gwyn swallowed the bite of food in her mouth. “Well, I better get going, or I’ll have to run extra laps!”

It was the truth, but Gwyn thought that the wide-eyed expressions of her fellow priestesses were almost enough motivation to have lied. She bit her lip to refrain from laughing just as the dining hall clock struck the hour. Gwyn flushed; she’d definitely have to run laps if she didn’t hurry. 

Cassian landed in the ring seconds after Gwyn arrived, something she only had the Cauldron to thank for. The Illyrian General seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, hemming and hawing over every little detail of their posture and technique. It made Gwyn thankful that she no longer needed time one on one with him. 

Poor Emerie. 

“Did you start reading the book I gave you?” The Illyrian female asked Nesta and Gwyn when they broke for water. Cassian was pretending to arrange the equipment. It was a ruse that everyone saw through, but one Gwyn was grateful for, especially as her cheeks burned crimson. 

“If that’s considered tame,” Gwyn whispered, barely able to look either female in the eye, “I can’t imagine what the book you have Nesta was like.”

Nesta smiled, her eyes shining with secrets and the corners of her mouth lifting. The blonde wasn’t much of a smiler, but Gwyn thought these little ones counted. 

Emerie, other the other hand, laughed. Loudly. “I brought another if you’re interested. Though I doubt you’ve finished—”

“I finished it this morning,” Gwyn told her excitedly. Then she frowned. “That ending was _cruel_.”

Nesta breathes a soft laugh. “They always separate the couple. It makes the reunion so much more… rewarding.”

A snort escaped Emerie. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Ladies!”

Gwyn whined softly. “I thought we were finished.” Her legs were _aching._ Gwyn didn’t know how she was going to make it down the stairs to the library as it was. 

“He’s evil,” Emerie said, watching the General of the Night Court as he crossed his arms and tapped his toes. “ _And_ impatient.”

“I’m positive he used to complain about someone, too,” Nesta mused, glancing at Gwyn and Emerie before heading toward Cassian. “But that’s not what got him where he is. Let’s go.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows rose. “That might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“About Cassian?” Emerie clarified, following Nesta toward the male waiting for them. 

“No—about anyone,” Gwyn remarked. 

Her answer earned a chorus of laughter, much to their instructor’s disapproval. Gwyn blushed, ducking her head as Emerie nudged her playfully with an elbow. Even Nesta’s eyes crinkled with the promise of another smile.

When she looked up, Gwyn’s gaze snagged on Cassian, finding the General watching Nesta smile. The softness in his hazel eyes made Gwyn’s breath caught, made her think of the book she’d read the night before. Finished only this morning. 

And then he blinked, and the warrior returned. 

“That’s enough!” He glared at them all, but Gwyn only smiled, distracted by the connection she’d made. Unfortunately, it seemed to only infuriate him further. “Oh? Is something funny over there, Gwyn?” She knew her eyes were as wide as saucers—more so than usual, anyway. 

“Well.” Cassian rested his hands on his hips, tilted his head to the side in thought. “If you’ve got the energy to laugh, then you’ve got the energy to run.” He pointed at the length of the training ring. “Get to it.”

The ghost of Nesta’s smile vanished, and she glared at the male. But Cassian’s own smile was a challenge, and his eyes danced with their own cruel amusement. Gwyn didn’t really understand it, but the pair seemed to get their own special kind of enjoyment out of giving each other a hard time. 

Gwyn watched with awe as Nesta examined their instructor, finding her mark with ease. Nesta’s eyes locked on his smile. “Then you better get running, General.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to come and yell at me on Tumblr. (@noodlecatposts)


End file.
